


Until the Stars Burn Out

by DameEsmeralda



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Family Feels, Fluff, Funnies, Gen, Harry/Hermione sibling relationship, Nicknames
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-08 02:38:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11637198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DameEsmeralda/pseuds/DameEsmeralda
Summary: An exploration of life for the Chosen One and his best friend, Hermione Granger. A series of ficlets set Hogwarts through adulthood that discover the ups, downs, and funnies of sibling life in the magical world.





	1. Until the Stars Burn Out

**Author's Note:**

> Hello lovelies. I’m so glad you’re checking out my first fic! Just a few notes before you get going. This fic explores Harry and Hermione’s sibling-esque relationship from Hogwarts through adulthood. These stories go in no particular order and tend to jump around on the series timeline. They all take place in the same universe, so once a couple/family is introduced, you’re stuck with them. I try to stay as true to character as possible, but I’m reserving the right to divert from cannon. This is my first attempt at writing and they are unbeta’d so please be kind. Blanket statement: The Queen, a.k.a J.K. Rowling, owns everything.  
> Much love my darlings. Thanks for reading. xo E

The stress of the prophecy was starting to eat away at Hermione. The more she thought about it, the more she felt there were pieces of the puzzle that she didn’t have. She sighed and leaned back against the armrest of the sofa in the Gryffindor common room and stared into the fire. There was something missing, she _knew_ it. She chided herself; she trusted Dumbledore, more importantly Harry trusted Dumbledore. He would have told them if there was more information. She pulled her knees up to her chest, hugging her flannel pajama bottoms closer. She would never admit it to Harry, but she was terrified of losing him. He was the only brother she had ever had, and she didn’t, couldn’t, give him up. She wasn’t the brightest witch of her age for nothing, she knew the last line of the prophecy was ominous, but she had faith that they could figure it out together. A single tear escaped her eye when she thought about what would happen if Harry died. He kept her grounded and forced her to have fun, live in the moment. After all, they weren’t promised the next day. That was glaringly obvious after the battle at the Ministry the previous year.

She felt the seat beside her dip down as someone settle themselves beside her. Hermione didn’t look up, she knew it was Harry. He was the only one that ever found her in the wee hours of the morning when she couldn’t sleep. He leaned closer and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, hugging her to him. She shifted into him, resting her head in the crook of his neck. Snuggled together quietly, they both gazed into the fire, both lost in their own thoughts. They had been doing this for years, seeking the kind of comfort only available when you are irrevocably at ease with each other. Harry’s hand rubbed up and down her arm soothingly, “What’s wrong, Mia?” he asked quietly.

 Hermione squirmed and threw her legs over his lap, burrowing closer to him, his other arm encircled her, pulling her closer, “Just thinking,” she mumbled.

“What’s new?” Harry joked back.

“Ha. Ha. You’re a regular comedian, Harry James. See if I ever help you with your essays again.”

“I feel like that’s a little harsh considering. You know I’d have flunked out first year without you.”

“Yes, well,” Hermione said with a half-smile, “I am incredibly bright.”

“There she is. I knew you were in there somewhere,” Harry smiled down at her. He was worried about her. The last few weeks Harry noticed she had been more withdrawn and distracted, even during classes when she was normally so outspoken. Their midnight common room snuggles had become more frequent. “Are you thinking about the prophecy again?”

“Yes,” she admitted. “I feel like we’re missing something, like there’s more to the story but the adults won’t tell us because we’re ‘just children’. Well I hate to break it to them, but we haven’t been ‘just children’ since the Philosopher’s Stone in first year; if that wasn’t enough, we definitely aren’t children after we successfully battled Death Eaters less than a year ago.”

“I know, I think there’s something missing too. The prophecy just doesn’t make a lot of sense standing alone, given the circumstances. There’s got to be something…” he trailed off, lost in his musing.

“Are you scared?”

“Terrified, actually.”

“You know I won’t leave you, _we_ won’t leave you. This thing is a team effort and we’re seeing it through until the end,” she said sincerely. Harry could hear the dedication in her voice, he felt it was equal parts comforting and disquieting.

“That’s what I’m afraid of actually. I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to you, or Ron…Ginny. The guilt would tear me apart. I wish I could just wrap you in bubble wrap and ship you to Australia until this whole thing is over. Make sure you’re happy and safe, somewhere else.”

“If I had a choice in the matter, I would do the exact same thing to you, you know. I adamantly refuse to let anything happen to you. I won’t do it. I will resurrect you and kill you myself if you do something stupid like dying, Harry James Potter. Don’t test me on that,” she fixed him with her firmest stare, “I’m the brightest witch of our age, you know I could do it.”

“You don’t have to threaten me, Mia. You know I’m too much of a wimp to get on your bad side. I saw exactly what you did to Ron with those birds,” Harry gave an exaggerated shudder, “besides, you know I never go into anything half assed. I always have a well thought out plan,” he said pompously, clearly channeling his inner Percy Weasley.

That remarked earned Harry and genuine Hermione giggle, which was obviously what he was hoping for.

“We’ll all get through it. Nobody’s going anywhere. They’re all too stubborn and obnoxious to die,” he assured her. Hermione nodded along with his statement, both realizing the emptiness in his words. They had already lost Sirius, the most obnoxious and stubborn of them all.

They sat in silence for a while, enjoying their bubble of comfort. Hermione finally broke the silence, “How’s it going with Ginny?”

Harry groaned and his head dropped to the back of the sofa in apparent frustration. “That’s going to kill me long before Moldy Shorts does. I have no idea what to do about it.”

Hermione laughed at his predicament; sometimes Harry was so obviously a teenage boy it was remarkable. “You know her and Dean have been fighting recently. Be her friend. Show her you’re there. It’ll work itself out soon enough, I promise.”

Harry leaned down and kissed the crown of her head, squeezing her close for a moment. “Come on, Mia. Head back up to bed, I know you’re exhausted. You haven’t been sleeping enough.”

She sighed, knowing he was right. “Neither of us have. Goes with the territory I suppose,” she exhaled, swinging her legs off him and stood, pulling him up with her. She raised on her tip toes and pressed a chaste kiss on his cheek. “Goodnight, Harry. Sweet dreams.”

“Love you, Mia.”

“Love you too. Til the stars burn out.”


	2. Intruder

_Bang! Bang! Bang!_

Petunia Dursley woke with a start around midnight, in the middle of July, to an incessant banging at the front door. Grumbling about inconsiderate teenagers and rude jokes, she wound her dressing gown tightly over her nightdress, intent on giving the out of control hooligan a piece of her mind. She threw open the front door, a scolding on her tongue, and stopped short at the sight of the girl before her. The girl was dressed in a casual summer outfit, her chocolate curls pulled into a messy bun on top of her head, a murderous expression graced her features. Before Petunia could form words, the girl spoke. “Where. Is. He,” she ground out, jaw clenched tightly.

“I beg your pardon?” Petunia blustered, “I have no idea who you are.”

“Of course you don’t. I’m Harry’s best friend, Hermione Granger, and I want to know where he is. Right. Now,” she snarled. It had been less than five minutes since she arrived at Privet Drive, and she had already had enough of Petunia’s nonsense.

“It’s none of your concern where the boy is. Your parents will be informed of-“ Petunia started but was promptly cut off by the indignant  witch.

“My parents know exactly where I am, Mrs. Dursley. In fact, they offered me their car to drive here. They’re well respected dentists you know, and they weren’t at all pleased when I told them about how you’ve been treating Harry all these years. The stories I’ve heard have been few and far between, watered down to avoid any trouble, but I’m sure there’s more than enough evidence to report child abuse,” she snapped, “now, I suggest you let me in a tell me where Harry’s room is.”

Petunia stepped out of the door way, a stunned expression on her face. “Up the stairs, the first door on the right,” she replied faintly.

Hermione hurriedly made her way up the staircase, reaching Harry’s door in record time. She made a disgusted noise when she noticed the cat flap allowing for food delivery. She knocked on the door, “Harry?”, she called questioningly through the crack, “Harry, please open the door. It’s Hermione.”

A moment later, the door slowly creaked open, revealing a baffled Harry Potter, glasses askew, standing in the door frame wearing pajama bottoms large enough for a baby hippogriff.   
“Mione? What are you doing here?”

“Checking in on you! Honestly,” she cried, pulling Harry into a tight hug, “Harry James Potter you better explain yourself this instant. I haven’t gotten a single letter from you for weeks! I was beside myself! Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?” she said as she pushed in the door.

Harry had the decency to looked ashamed of himself. Truthfully, he hadn’t realized it had been so long since he’d written Hermione. The battle at the Department of Mysteries had taken place a few months previously and he was so weighed down with grief and guilt for Sirius, he hadn’t thought about much else.

Hermione scrutinized him while she waited for him to respond. He looked awful. Dark circles were prominent under his emerald eyes and he was abnormally pale. It was obvious every year when he returned to Hogwarts that he lost weight, but she thought he looked deathly thin. Much more and she would be able to see his ribs. “Have you been eating?” she questioned.

“Well, yeah,” he replied sheepishly, “some.”

She let out a long-suffering sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose, “Honestly, Harry, are you trying to kill yourself? You can’t just quit eating.” Hermione reached into her backpack and pulled out an apple, a package of crackers, and a bottle of water and passed it to Harry. “Eat this. I’m not going to sit back and watch you starve yourself. I don’t know what Dumbledore was thinking, sending you back here by yourself. You’re obviously upset about what happened in May. I swear he is off his rocker,” she grumbled.

Harry quietly accepted the snack and said, “I wasn’t doing it on purpose, Mia. They just don’t give me much to begin with, and everything I try to eat is tasteless. I’m doing the best I can,” he finished and looked down at the floor.

Hermione stood from the desk chair and took a few steps, crossing the room to join Harry on the bed. She settled beside him and rested her head on his shoulder while he munched on the apple. “I know that, Harry. I just worry about you being cooped up here all summer. I’m not leaving you here to be mistreated. I’m staying with you for a few days to get everything straightened out, then I’m going to work out the rest of the summer until we can go to the Burrow.”

“You really are the best sister a guy could ask for, you know that, right?”

“Of course I do. That’s what all my brothers tell me,” she finished with a wink, “Now finish that snack while I go change. I’m bloody exhausted from driving all day.” Hermione grabbed her bag and followed Harry’s directions to the bathroom. After pulling on her pajamas, she brushed her teeth and washed her face, and walked back to Harry’s room.

Harry was laying on the bed when she strolled through the doorway, she closed it with a click, and flopped down beside him, instantly cuddling up. Years of sharing a common room and summer vacations at the Burrow had left the duo extremely comfortable snuggled up together like a pair of kittens. Harry leaned over and dropped a careless kiss on the top of her head.

“Love you, Harry.”

“Love you too, Mia. Til the stars burn out.”

xxxxx

The next morning, the door to Harry’s room flew open and Vernon Dudley appeared, mustache quivering in anger. “What in the devil is going on here?” he bellowed.

Resigned, Harry let out a sigh and answered, “Nothing Uncle Vernon.”

“It doesn’t look like nothing, boy. Petunia told me this morning that some girl barged into our house without invitation last night, and I find her in your bed? There will be no indecent behavior under my roof!”

Harry tried to contain his eye roll and had more success than Hermione. She’d had more than enough of these people.

“Mr. Dursley, I can assure you the only indecent behavior in this house is how you and your wife treat Harry,” she shot him a glare of upmost contempt, “and I’m not having any more of it. Now if you’ll excuse us, we really need to get changed.” Hermione turned to look at Harry, who was barely containing his mirth seeing his uncle on the receiving end of a Hermione Granger Lecture, and said, “I’m going to freshen up in the bathroom. I’ll be back in five.”

Flabbergasted, Vernon turned and stalked down the stairs as fast as his tree trunks could carry him. Harry turned to his closet and pulled out a set of clothes for the day. He hadn’t felt that good about being at Privet Drive since the twins had slipped Dudley that Ton Tongue Toffee. Faintly, he heard the front door slam as Vernon left for work. Hermione reemerged dressed for the day, and with a quick trip to the bathroom himself, they made their way down stairs for breakfast. Harry was really looking forward to Dudley’s face when he saw Hermione. This was just bloody brilliant.

xxxxx

The look on Dudley’s face when Hermione Granger followed Harry into the kitchen the next morning _was_ bloody brilliant, thought Harry smugly. Dudley always looked somewhat confused, but this morning it peaked at extreme discombobulation. He turned to his mother and said around a mouth full of toast, “Who’s ‘hat?”

Petunia made a face, but before she could answer, Harry spoke up. “This is my best friend, Hermione Granger,” he said as he turned to look at Hermione, eyes sparkling with delight, “Mia, this is Dudley.”

Hermione took in the scene before her. She knew Dudley had to be large, judging by the size of Harry’s hand me downs, and she had seen him briefly at Kings Cross Station. Apparently, it was necessary to be up close to properly appreciate the gravity of the situation. She plastered on her best fake smile and said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dudley. Harry’s told me so much about you.”

Petunia glowed with apparent pride, somehow missing the obvious fact that nothing Harry said about Dudley could be positive, while Dudley seemed to flush at her words. Harry and Hermione sunk into the two empty chairs at the table and Petunia grudgingly filled two plates with fruit, eggs, and toast, handing them off unceremoniously. Hermione thanked her for breakfast and gave Harry a glare fitting of Molly Weasley, warning him to finish his entire plate.

The pair finished their breakfasts, rinsed their plates, and placed them in the dishwasher. Harry grabbed Hermione’s hand and tugged her out the front door. Hermione followed along as they wandered slowly down the street, making their way to an unknown destination. They walked in comfortable silence for several more blocks before Harry stopped short at a small park. Settling onto the swings, Harry broke the silence, “Thanks for coming, Mione.”

“You’re welcome,” she replied with a smile, “You know I’m actually glad to have the distraction. It can get quite lonely at home sometimes.”

Harry looked at her questioningly. “Don’t get me wrong, I love my parents, and I’m thrilled to get to spend the summer with them. But they still have to work during the day and I don’t really know any of the muggles my age. Not that we would have anything in common to talk about anyway,” she mused.

“Look, Harry, I know you’re still grieving Sirius. I get that, really. I’m still sad about it too most days, but he wouldn’t want you to live like this. I know for a fact he would want you to do the exact opposite of what you’ve been doing. He was locked up in that house, but you don’t have to be.”

Harry nodded at her words. He knew she was right, but it was damn hard to let go of the guilt. He finally asked the question that had been bouncing around in his mind since he arrived at the Dursley’s in June. “Mione, do you believe in heaven?”

A little caught off guard by his question, she mulled her thoughts over. Her family was religious, but not overbearingly so, and it was something that she lived without while she was away at Hogwarts. They went to church on Sundays and prayed before meals, but she had never had to voice her beliefs to another person before. She was startled to realize they weren’t as concrete as they once were.

Hesitantly she started, “I think so, yes. There are a lot of things in the magical world that are accepted as true that muggles only speculate about, souls being one of them. So yes, I do think there is an afterlife. I also think Sirius is thrilled to be reunited with his best friend after all these years. He’s missed James, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, I think he probably is,” Harry added thoughtfully. “Do you reckon he’s telling them about all the insane things that have happened to me since first year?”

“Oh definitely,” she laughed, “Sirius wouldn’t miss the opportunity to let your mum and dad know that their little Prongslet used the Marauder’s Map to sneak out of the castle.” Hermione giggled at Sirius’s nickname for Harry that he had used at every available moment. Harry looked up at her and smiled, this time it reached his eyes. She got off the swing and pulled him up.

“Come on, lets walk back to your aunt’s and get the car. Mum gave me her credit card and there’s a new movie I’ve been dying to see.”

Harry slung an arm over her shoulder and they walked back to Privet Drive. “Sounds perfect, Mione.”

 


	3. New Baby Smell

Hermione sat in the new rocking chair placed in the corner of Harry’s living room. She had a small baby nestled into her chest, the top of his head tucked just under her chin. At only a few weeks old, he had captured the heart of everyone who saw him. Much of the last hour had been spent studying his tiny features. She counted his fingers and toes, admiring how long they were and wondered what position he might play in quidditch. He had a shock of messy black hair and his mother’s soft brown eyes. In her official and unbiased opinion as godmother, James Sirius Potter was a perfect blend of Harry and Ginny. She sighed contentedly and rubbed small circles on the infant’s back, humming softly. “Aunt Mia loves you so much, sweet boy, til the stars burn out,” she whispered.

Harry and Ginny were the first of her friends to marry, and the first to welcome a baby. Naturally, Hermione was taking her role of godmother and aunt very seriously. Hermione had prepared Ginny’s favorite pasta dish and brought it over so the new parents would have dinner. Little did they know, it was all a ploy to have some quality, uninterrupted snuggle time with James while Harry and Ginny took a well-deserved nap. James stirred in his sleep; she readjusted and brought him down to cradle in her arms. Running a delicate finger over his tiny button nose and peach fuzz eyebrows, she couldn’t help but think that she could look at him all day and never tire. She bent down and pressed a soft kiss to his tiny forehead, inhaling deeply.

A bleary-eyed Harry Potter stood in the doorway to his living room and watched his best friend rock a sleeping James. He reflected back on Ginny’s pregnancy. The Weasley’s had been incredibly helpful when they needed it, but it was a bittersweet feeling experiencing it without his own family. Hermione had really stepped up to the plate to make sure he was prepared for the arrival and provided a source of calm and logic for Ginny. Since Hermione’s parents had passed, they had officially adopted one another, sometimes going as far as to introduce themselves as brother and sister in public. Hermione had been overjoyed at what she assumed would be her only opportunity to become an aunt. He watched as she hummed and whispered to him softly, readjusting the infant in her arms, leaning down to kiss his forehead, inhaling-

“Did you just sniff my baby?”

Hermione’s head shot up, eyes wide, “What? Of course not. Don’t be silly,” a flush creeping up her cheeks.

“Oh Merlin. You seriously just sniffed James! I saw it,” Harry whisper-shouted, trying not to disturb the baby with his amusement. He could count on both hands the times he’d caught Hermione doing something completely embarrassing. “Gods, I can’t wait to tell Luna.”

Hermione shot him her signature glare, but there wasn’t any real heat behind it. She said primly, “I really don’t know what you’re talking about, Harry.”

“Come off it! The week before Ginny had James, Luna said she was excited for the new baby smell- which you adamantly refused existed. But I caught you red handed sniffing Jamie!” Harry was almost doubled over from containing his mirth, pointing his finger at her accusingly. “This is bloody brilliant.”

She rolled her eyes and cooed to the baby, “Your daddy is a real git, Jamie. We can’t help it you smell so good.”

Hermione eyed him indignantly while he acted like a toddler, slumped against the wall with suppressed laughter. She was sure it was the sleep deprivation because there was nothing _that_ funny about the situation. 

Harry gasped, “I never thought I would get to tell Luna she was right and you were wrong. It’s finally happening after, all these years.”

Hermione settled James into the bassinet situated by the rocker and cast a one sided silencing charm over it to prevent the sleeping boy from waking. “You will do no such thing, Harry Potter!”

“Oh yes I will! I’m owling her right now to come over. No, I’m owling everybody. We’re having a party with a cake that says ‘Hermione was wrong’ in bright pink frosting. I bet George can get me custom fireworks even on such short notice. When I tell him what it’s for, he’ll rush it. Oh! I wonder if they’ve already printed the evening edition of the Prophet. The editor still owes me a favor, I think they’d give me a discount on a full page,” Harry mused and wiped the tears from the corners of his eyes.

“You’re impossible.”

“You love me.”

“Whatever.”

xxxxx

“Ron will be here in a few minutes to join us for dinner. I asked him to stop and pick up some bread,” Ginny told Hermione. After Harry’s adolescent fit earlier, Ginny had woken up from her nap and insisted Hermione and Ron join them for dinner.

Harry had just returned from settling James into his crib when Ron stepped out of the floo. They each grabbed a dish and made their way to the table, chatting and laughing together. Soon everyone was served and settled at dinner, making small talk about work and quidditch. Ginny took a large bite of the pasta Hermione prepared and hummed appreciatively, “Mione, this is fantastic. I really have no idea how you do it. Mine never turns out like yours.”

“Thank you, Ginny,” Hermione said with a smile as she watched Harry raise a fork full of pasta up to his mouth.  Within seconds, a small explosion erupted right in front of Harry’s face, covering his surprised expression in bits of pasta, cheese, and tomato. The table fell silent as Harry’s eyes slid over to meet Hermione’s. Mouth hanging open, he raised an eyebrow at her and she bit her lip before falling to the floor in a bout of laughter.

“Fuck, Hermione! There’s tomato in my eye!” He screeched dramatically.

The two redheads looked at their friends in mirthful confusion.

Meeting Harry’s gaze, Hermione replied through her hysteria, “I’m not sorry.”

“You sniffed my baby! It was funny!”

“He smells nice!” she shouted back, fighting the urge to break into laughter again, “I’m not the one who tried to take out a full page add in the Prophet!”

“He doesn’t always smell nice,” mumbled Ron to Ginny, who let out a small snort of laughter.

“It’s not that big of a deal, Harry. New baby smell is a real thing. I sniffed Jamie. Moving on.”

“Ha!” Harry said pointing his fork at her in accusation, “You admit it! I knew you were sniffing him! And for your information, it is a big deal! When, exactly, was the last time you were wrong? I was trying to commemorate the occasion properly.”

A burst of bright light coming from the other side of the table brought their attention back to Ron and Ginny. “Sorry to interrupt,” Ginny said amusedly, “Just wanted to make sure I got a good blackmail photo of Harry’s face full of pasta and Hermione rolling around on the floor. It doesn’t happen every day. You understand.” Gleefully, she snapped a second picture of their stunned expressions. With a wave of her hand she smiled at them and said, “Carry on.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I also post Harry Potter content and fic recs on my tumblr (dameesmeralda.tumblr.com) if you want to follow along! I love to chat with you all. Feel free to comment and review! xo E


	4. Gone

The summer after 6th year had been a trying time for everyone. Harry had arrived at the Burrow several days previously and had been anxiously awaiting Hermione’s arrival that afternoon. When she arrived, she gave the boys tight hugs and made excuses to go up to her room, claiming exhaustion from traveling. Harry was concerned at her uncharacteristic behavior, but allowed her time to herself.

The night of Hermione’s arrival, Harry woke suddenly from his slumber with an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. He quietly got out of bed and crept across the room, as to not wake Ron. The house was still, no lights or noises to disturb the blanket of night that settled over the family. Harry walked out the kitchen door and looked around the garden appraisingly, spotting a small figure he could barely make out in the dark. He walked to the orchard, wand gripped tightly in his hand, intent on discovering who was sitting in the dark. When he approached, Harry quickly recognized Hermione’s form propped up against a tree. She was staring listlessly into the night, unseeing, the moonlight highlighting the tear stains on her cheeks. Harry hastened his approach at the revelation and dropped onto the ground beside her, instantly gathering her in his arms. Recognizing his familiar woodsy scent, Hermione relaxed into his embrace, tears still escaping her eyes freely. Harry rocked her gently, murmuring soothing words of comfort into her ear, rubbing small circles on her back, still unsure the cause for his unusually strong witch to break so completely.

“What is it, Mia? What’s wrong?”

Hermione sobbed harder in response, unable to form coherent words. After a few minutes, she caught her breath and whispered, “They’re gone.”

Alarmed, Harry urged her to keep talking, “Who’s gone?”

Burying her face in his chest, clinging to him desperately, Hermione tried to control the fresh round of gut-wrenching sorrow that was bubbling up in her soul. “My parents,” she mumbled, her voice muffled by his shirt.

“What?” Harry asked, unable to comprehend her statement. Hermione jerked away from him, suddenly angry. She felt as if something inside of her had snapped, creating a rage that was aimed at everything and nothing. Startled, Harry reached out for her, “Calm down, Mia. Tell me what happened. Maybe we can fix-“ but Hermione cut him off.

“There is nothing that can be fixed about this,” she replied harshly, voice cracking, obviously on the verge of hysterics. “I can’t take it back. I can’t fix this.”

Harry stood from his place on the ground and walked closer to where Hermione was pacing. Gently he said, “Mia, sweetheart, you’re going to have to tell me what’s going on so I can help you.”

As she continued to pace, Harry took in her appearance. She looked slightly crazed in pajama shorts and a t-shirt at least three sizes to large, her father’s Harry thought, judging by the large cartoon tooth grinning at him. Her long curls were escaping from the bun that was thrown on top of her head, eyes swollen from crying. She rounded on him, voice rising, “I had to protect them. I couldn’t let the Death Eaters torture them. They couldn’t stay here.”

“Your mum and dad?”

“No! No. I don’t have parents anymore.”

She was out of control and Harry knew it. All logic had fled her mind. Hermione’s magic was crackling around her, a visible force like static electricity creating sparks on her skin and hair. She took off at a run, heading for the woods that bordered the orchard, Harry tailing after her. Some ways into the woods, she raised her hand and lashed out at the surroundings. Spells were shattering boulders and felling trees on impact. Harry raised his wand and cast a protective charm around them both, allowing her to continue her tirade until she tired herself out. He could understand why she felt the need for violence. He had, after all, trashed Dumbledore’s office after Sirius’s death, and caused a myriad of destruction in the Forbidden Forrest after Dumbledore’s death earlier in the summer. He didn’t fully understand why she was so upset, but most times he found it beneficial to let out the toxic feelings.

After fifteen minutes of firing spells full force, Hermione collapsed onto the ground in a pitiful heap. Harry picked his way across the destruction and collected her into his arms again, holding her like a baby. Her arms wrapped around his neck and her head instinctively buried in his chest, breathing the comforting scent that she associated with Harry’s protection. It calmed her enough to tell him what she had done. Silent tears streaming down her face, Hermione said softly, “I couldn’t let the Death Eaters find mum and dad. We know first hand what they would do to them and they had no way of protecting themselves. I’ve been thinking for months of ways to keep them safe during the war, but I could only come up with one good option.”

“What was it, Mia?” Harry asked, nervous to hear her answer considering the display she just put on.

“I oblivated them,” she whispered, “They don’t know I exist. They don’t know magic exists. I faked their deaths and sent them to Australia. Wendel and Monica Wilkins don’t have a daughter.”

Harry was floored. He knew something was upsetting her, but he never would have guessed it was that. Hermione had performed an irreversible spell and sent her parents to a new continent to keep them safe. The magnitude of the situation hit him. Hermione was an orphan. Memory charms were not reversible. Harry knew and loved the Grangers to, having spent time at their home in the summers; they treated him like a son. He took a few moments to gather himself and collect his thoughts. “Mia,” he said soothingly.

A soft sob escaped her mouth, “They’re gone, Harry. I don’t have a family anymore. I’m an orphan and it’s my fault.”

Stroking her hair soothingly, Harry said, “No, Mia, it’s not your fault. Everything about this war forces us to make choices. Sometimes they’re hard. Yours was so hard, but you did what you could do to protect the ones you love. That’s not a bad thing. They’re safe and happy. That’s all you really want for them, isn’t it?” Hermione nodded into his chest. “You still have family, Mia. You’re my sister. They will have to drag me away before I’d leave you, you know. And I’m the Chosen One, so that won’t be easy,” he teased gently. “I’m so sorry you had to do that, Mia. I can’t even imagine.”

They all knew the war was ramping up. You could feel it in the very atmosphere, lingering…waiting. Harry pulled her closer, rubbing her arm comfortingly. In that moment, he didn’t think he’d ever hated Voldemort so intensely, forcing his sister to make such a decision. He would do anything to keep her safe, he knew. They laid back on the grass, Hermione tucked into his side, allowing herself to be comforted and protected. It would be a long, difficult journey to reach the end of the war. She prayed they would all make it out safely. She couldn’t give up the rest of her family. It would kill her.

Harry and Hermione lay in silence, looking up at the night sky, tracing constellations with their eyes. Harry’s eyes briefly lingered on Sirius and he whispered, “I love you. Until the stars burn out.”   
“Until the stars burn out,” she assured.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, please review! I love to hear from you. xo E


	5. Do Not Pass Go

The Gryffindor common room was packed. There were games of chess and exploding snap taking place on every available surface. The decibel level had reached an all-time high and Hermione Granger had had enough. It was Saturday night and she had been homesick all week. Sometimes she just wanted a little bit of normal- things she grew up with. What she wouldn’t give right now to watch TV with her parents or play a game with pieces that didn’t move and talk on their own. She sighed for the 9th time in half an hour and Harry finally decided to speak up. “What’s going on, Mione?”

“It’s so loud in here I can’t think. I just want something to be normal for a few minutes. You know?”

She knew Harry had never been homesick for Privet Drive, but most everyone who grew up in muggle homes wished for normalcy every once in a while, Harry included. He hopped off his spot on the floor beside her and took off up the boy’s staircase calling, “I’ll be right back!” over his shoulder as he jogged away. She watched him curiously, then leaned back against the couch and closed her eyes. A few minutes later, a hand patting her on the head excitedly brought her out of her reverie. She opened her eyes and realized it was Harry leaning over the back of the couch, a huge grin on his upside down face. “Ready? I have a surprise!”

He was practically vibrating with excitement. Hermione laughed at his antics and left her seat following him out of the portrait hole. She eyed the bundle he was carrying wrapped in his invisibility cloak with mild apprehension, but kept her questions to herself. A short walk away, Harry pulled her into a large alcove. It provided a cozy place to sit and the window looked over the Hogwarts grounds. He cast two cushioning charms on opposite sides of the wide bench, where one might set a chair cushion. Harry pushed Hermione onto one while he took the seat opposite her. He clutched his invisible bundle close to his chest, and Hermione said with a laugh, “Get on with it, Harry!”

Grinning like a loon, Harry pulled the invisibility cloak off the surprise with a dramatic flourish and exclaimed, “Ta da!”

A surprised expression covered Hermione’s face as she took in the rattiest Monopoly game she had ever seen. “Where in the world did you get this?” she questioned.

Harry waved it off with a careless flick of his hand, “Dean told me he found it in his trunk a couple weeks ago. Can I be the banker?”

Hermione choked on a laugh, “You brought me out here to play Monopoly?”

“Yes, Mia. Focus. Can I be the banker? Please,” he said as he fixed her with his best pout and puppy dog eyes. 

She giggled and rolled her eyes. “Fine, be the banker, but I get first pick of the pieces.” She pulled out the small Ziploc bag containing the game pieces and rifled through it, extracting the small, silver, top hat. She passed the bag to Harry who breathed a sigh of relief.

“I thought you were going to pick the dog. I always use the dog. He’s good luck,” Harry grinned.

“Sirius would be so proud. I’ll have you know, Harry James, that I am a Monopoly expert. I’ve never lost. Ever.”

Harry drew himself up to his full height and puffed out his chest, “Well I beat little Leonard Jones in primary school and made him cry like a baby, so you better watch your back, Hermione Jean. I’m going to crush you.”

“Is that a threat?”

A wicked smirk spread across Harry’s face, “It’s a promise.”

Their game started off relatively civil, with good-natured teasing, but quickly progressed into a full-fledged warzone. In retrospect, Hermione mused that’s what happened when you threw two highly competitive individuals into a board game known for longevity and chance. Within an hour, the insults had started flying and passersbys were giving the pair strange looks.

“YES!” Harry exclaimed, pumping his fist in the air, “That’s a monopoly on the railroads, Mia! Beat that.”

“Don’t get too cocky yet, Four Eyes. I,” she replied smugly, waving a card in his face, “have Boardwalk. Your railroads are pocket money.”   
“Seriously? Four Eyes? Is that the best you can come up with? That didn’t even hurt my feelings in primary school,” he scoffed.

An annoyed Ron Weasley stomped into view. “Alright. Someone tell me what’s going on here because I had to pause my chess match to come babysit you two. Some ickle firstie came in and said you were out in the corridor yelling and calling each other names,” Ron said exasperatedly.

Simultaneously, Harry and Hermione both waved him away distractedly. “Bugger off, Ron. I’m in the zone,” Harry replied distractedly.

“You can’t be in the zone if you’re losing, Scar Face.”

“You hear that?” Harry said, rubbing his index finger and thumb together in the air, “That’s me playing a tiny violin for your pitiful insults.”

Ron looked at his two friends, completely baffled by their behavior. It was like two trash talking monsters had polyjuiced into his best friends.

“Somebody go get Malfoy!” Harry called down the empty hallway, “at least he can land some good insults!”

“Shove it up your ass, Potter! You’re still losing!”

“Hermione!” Ron called, he could count the number of times he had heard Hermione curse.

“Hush, Ronald. I’m busy,” she said without looking up.

Harry moved his dog five spaces and reached for the ‘chance’ pile. He read his card and groaned loudly, his head falling back and smacking he stone wall behind him. Hermione grinned evilly, “What’s wrong, Harry?”

Harry glared at her and didn’t answer, reluctantly moving his dog to Jail. Hermione picked up the dice and rolled. Smiling gleefully, she bounced her top hat across the board, passing Go. She stuck her hand out and sang, “Oh Mr. Banker! I believe you owe me some more money.”

He snatched two hundred dollar bills out of the pile and thrust them at her unceremoniously. Ron looked at the colored paper in Harry’s hand and the extreme expressions fixed on both of their faces, and threw his hands up in defeat, “Bloody hell, you’re both barmy. I’m going back to my chess match. Try not to get any blood on the floor when you kill each other, yeah?”

It was well past curfew when the duo made their way back to the common room in a tense silence. The cloak was thrown over both of them, but they were pointedly ignoring each other. When the portrait hole swung shut behind them, Hermione rounded on Harry. “You cheated!” she hissed, pointing her finger at his chest.

“I did not cheat! You’re just pissed because I won and you have to do the stupid bet!” They shouted at each other, not paying attention to the large group of Gryffindors that were gathered around, watching the show down. They had never seen Harry and Hermione argue so heatedly before.

“Don’t try to get out of it, Mia. You’re a Gryffindor. We’ll have a rematch tomorrow, after you’ve held up your end of the bargain and I’ll let you try to beat me.”

“Fine,” she spat, and in a huff, she spun on her heel to walk up to her dorm.

xxxxx

The next morning, Harry made his way down to breakfast, practically skipping with glee, a goofy smile covered his face. Hermione scowled at the back of his head and fidgeted with the hem of her sweater. When they neared the doors to enter for breakfast, Hermione took a deep breath and held her head high, steeling herself. Fashionably late, Harry walked up to the doors and opened them with a flourish, bending at the waist in a bow, sweeping his hand forward and gesturing for Hermione’s entrance, the biggest smirk she’d ever seen plastered on his face.

At Hermione’s entrance the Great Hall broke out in whispers, some students pointing; even the professors looked interested at her uncharacteristic display. The trio walked to their seats at the Gryffindor table, her fellow classmates watching wide eyed. She began loading her plate with her favorite breakfast foods when Neville asked the question on everyone’s mind. “Hermione…what are you wearing?”

Donning her Weasley sweater, rainboots, a necktie, and a multitude of brightly colored knitted scarves and hats, Hermione turned to face Neville. She answered primly, her voice carrying, “Hermione is a free elf.”

Harry’s laughter rang through the room, when Hermione looked at him, smiling sweetly, “You don’t even want to know what I’m going to do to you when you lose the next bet, Harry James Potter.”

xxxxx

Minerva bit the inside of her cheek to contain her mirth and addressed the headmaster, “Albus, Harry’s Marauder is showing. You need to write Sirius. Merlin knows the man could do with a laugh.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to read and review! xo E


	6. Realistic

A heavy dusting of snow covered the isolated forest in the English countryside. Bare trees coated in frost glistened in the late afternoon sun. Hermione threw back the flap of the tent and stepped out, inhaling the fresh, cold air deeply, calming herself. She had been on edge since she discovered the unnerving bundle the previous evening. After much deliberation, she decided it was better just to broach the subject with Harry head on.  She walked quietly over to where Harry rested propped up by a nearby tree. They were both bundled up against the cold; Harry had a blanket settled across his lap and a small jar of flames danced cheerfully beside him. Hermione dropped to the ground and snuggled up against him, her head rested on his shoulder and his arm wound around her waist as he tossed half the blanket over her legs. The pair sat in silence for a long while, drawing comfort from the familiarity of the pose, each lost in their own thoughts. After a time, Hermione broke the silence. “Harry, I found something I want to talk to you about,” she said quietly, her gloved hand picking at a stray thread on the blanket.

“Oh?” Harry replied, only paying partial attention to her words.

“Harry,” she began, nudging him gently to get his attention, “why are there a bundle of letters addressed to all of us, in your handwriting, hidden in the bottom of my bag?” Her head tilted upward, allowing her eyes to study his face from her position on his shoulder.

Harry sighed deeply, resting his chin on top of Hermione’s head. “Mia,” he started, reluctantly.

“No, Harry. I want you to tell me,” she stated firmly, desperately needing reassurance.  

“You’re smart, Mia. So smart. You know what the letters are for,” gently he continued his explanation, “We both know the chances of me making it out of this alive are slim and I wanted all of you to have a final piece of me, closure. I need to know that if something happens I’ve said everything that needs to be said to the people I love. That you’re taken care of. I’ve made peace with it, I don’t want to leave you, Merlin knows I want a future, but just in case,” he trailed off. They sat in silence for several moments, Hermione sniffling beside him before he spoke again. “There’s a will there as well. Between the Potter vault and the Black vault, you, Ron, and Ginny will be taken care of for life. Set something up for Remus’s kid too, yeah? Sirius took care of me, I want to take care of him.”

Her breathing was heavy, a tell tale sniffing gave away her tears. Her voice cracked as she spoke, “Harry, please don’t talk like that. I don’t even want to think a world without you in it.”

“I’m just being realistic, Mia,” he sighed.

“You aren’t on a suicide mission, are you?” she looked up at him sharply. “You aren’t planning something stupid? I want you to realize right now,” she said, grabbing his chin with her hand, forcing him to look in her eyes, “it will _kill_ me and Ginny, maybe literally, if something were to happen to you. _Kill us_. She loves you just as much as you love her, she’ll never get over it. I won’t get over it. Don’t do that to us, I’ve already lost the rest of my family, I refuse to lose you.”

“I’ll always fight, you know that. I don’t want to die, I want a life, a family, but I’ve made peace with the possibility. There’s a difference between peace and giving up. I won’t give up. I wouldn’t do that to you, or Gin, or Ron. I want to see what life looks like without death threats hanging over us.”

Hermione searched his face, his eyes, looking for any hint of deception. Satisfied he was telling her the truth, he really was a horrible liar anyway, she relaxed against him once more. Harry shifted and his arm settled over her shoulders, pulling her into a warm hug. She was thankful that he had been truthful with her, not sugarcoating his thoughts. In reality, she knew what he had done would likely be a comfort if her suspicions, Merlin forbid, came to fruition.

“I’m not happy about it, but I suppose I understand what you’re saying, so as long as you don’t give up.”

“Promise,” he said, giving her hand a firm squeeze.  

They sat in comfortable silence, cuddled up beneath a blanket, watching the beginning of the sunset color the frozen landscape. Rays of pink, orange, and purple light fell on the snow, painting it a prism of colors.

“It’s beautiful out here, isn’t it?” Harry whispered, speaking softly, unwilling to disturb the natural magic of the moment.

“It’s stunning,” she agreed.

“Sometimes, if you stay out here long enough, it’s almost like the horrible stuff isn’t happening. A little bubble of peace,” Harry said, looking contentedly at the sunset, determined not to take life’s small pleasures for granted.

“It would be so easy to run away, you know? We could just leave, get new identities, buy a house on the beach,” Hermione grinned up at him, “We could spend our lives surfing.”

Harry chuckled at her musings, “You want to learn to surf?”

“You don’t? Where’s your Gryffindor bravery?” she teased.

“Haven’t got any. Barely made it into Gryffindor,” he stated, seriously.

Hermione laughed softly at his antics, “Oh, Merlin. It’s nice to think about though, isn’t it?” she mused. It was good for them to laugh and joke occasionally, they really hadn’t done much of it in the past months. The stress of the war and horcrux hunt weighed heavily on them, dampening their normal banter. She knew they both cherished the stolen moments, however short, where they could set aside the stress and share a few jokes and smiles.

“Yeah, it’s a nice thought,” he conceded.

Hermione stood, offering her hand to Harry. “Come on lazy bones. We’ve been out here long enough. Reality needs us back. Besides, the quicker we hunt down these nasty horcruxes, the quicker we can get to our surfing lessons.”

“Cowabunga, dude,” Harry answered, grabbing her hand and hoisting himself up. They made the short trek back to camp feeling considerably lighter. A lopsided smile crept onto Harry’s face; he really couldn’t imagine Hermione on a surf board, but he intended to see it for himself.

  


	7. An Untold Truth

TW: Brief and vague discussion of the Dursley’s child abuse.

_"There's no other love like the love for a brother. There's no other love like the love from a brother." - Terri Guillemets_

There was a week left of Harry, Ron, and Hermione’s first year of Hogwarts. It had been eventful in many ways, the debacle with Quirrell had only transpired a few days previously. Hermione noticed that Harry had become significantly morose as of late, and she was starting to worry. She glanced around the common room from her favorite study spot, looking for the familiar head of unruly black hair, only to find him absent once again. Sighing, she closed her books and arranged them carefully in her school bag, slinging it over her shoulder as she started up the stairs to the boy’s dormitory. She knocked hesitantly on the door and upon receiving no answer, swung it open, revealing her best friend sitting dejectedly in the window seat, gazing out over the grounds. She strolled across the room, dropping her bag at the foot of Harry’s bed as she went, never slowing her stride. Both still relatively small in stature, Hermione seated herself comfortably opposite Harry in the window seat, her feet resting beside him. The weather had been nice lately, but today a springtime storm was casting a gloomy atmosphere over the castle, rain and lightning illuminated the afternoon sky. She thought it matched Harry’s newfound mood nicely.

“What’s wrong, Harry?”

Harry let his eyes move from the window to look at her, grateful for her concern, but unwilling to talk about the problem. Eleven years of concealed emotion was not easily overcome. “Nothing, Mione, I’m fine. Really,” giving her what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

Hermione was not so easily fooled. They hadn’t known each other for very long, but once their friendship started, it had morphed naturally into a strong sibling bond. A protective and possessiveness had settled over them since their run in with the troll, a bond Hermione was sure was magical in origin. She looked at him shrewdly, her eyes taking in the tightness of his smile and the dullness of his eyes, typically so expressive.

“I don’t lie to you, Harry James. I expect the same,” she said pointedly.  

He sighed, “I just don’t want to worry you. It’s nothing really, I’m just dreading going back to the Dursley’s this summer.”

She knew that Harry didn’t have a great relationship with his family, that much was obvious from his cracked glasses and collection of muggle hand me downs, but he never talked about them much. Curiosity and a bad feeling about his reluctance settled in her stomach. “You’ve never told me much about your life at home.”

“I don’t like to talk about it very much. Never have good things to say, really,” he answered with a shrug, deliberately avoiding her gaze.

Silence overtook them for several moments. Hermione was lost in her thoughts; sometimes she really disliked having a vivid imagination, creating horrible scenarios. Forcing herself to put an end to that train of thought, she said gently, “I’m always here if you want to get it off your chest. You know I won’t tell…I just want to help. I’m worried for you, Harry.”

A foreign feeling bubbled in Harry’s chest. He’d never really had people to worry about him before, and he decided immediately it was nice knowing that Hermione cared enough to worry. This strange emotion and the concern etched onto Hermione’s face was enough to tip the scale slightly and Harry spoke more freely with her than he ever had in his life.  “Nobody’s ever worried about me before,” he told her quietly, “The Dursley’s just wish I would disappear.”

“That’s awful, Harry. I never want you to disappear.”

He shrugged again, in apparent nonchalance, “It’s not so bad. Most of the time I’d rather them ignore me. At least they aren’t doing other things.”

Hermione pulled her feet back and crawled to the other side of the window, so she was seated beside Harry. She leaned her head on his shoulder, her arm looped through his, offering silent comfort and reassurance. “What kind of things?”

Harry was silent for a moment, considering what he should tell her. He didn’t want pity, but he knew talking to Hermione would probably be a good thing and he trusted her implicitly. She cared at any rate. His head dropped to the side, resting on hers, while his fingers toyed with the spare button sewn on the hem of his untucked oxford. “Sometimes they would lock me in my cupboard without food,” he began, his voice almost a whisper, “I’m expected to do a lot of the chores like making breakfast, working in the garden, that sort of thing. Dudley doesn’t do much except laze around and bully people. He looks a bit like a pig,” he snorted. “His favorite sport is Harry Hunting. Likes to chase me around with his gang and beat me up. Uncle Vernon thinks it’s a right laugh.”

“Does he hit you? Your uncle?” Hermione asked tentatively. She wanted to know more, but reigned in her questions. There was no reason to badger him, she decided. If he wanted to tell her he would, and she would be there to listen.

Again, Harry shrugged, “Sometimes. Only if I’ve done something particularly freakish,” his voice adopting a bitter quality. “He’s not a very nice man, and I don’t care much for him. I wouldn’t really mind if I never went back.”

She gave his arm a gentle squeeze as he continued. “I never had friends until I came to Hogwarts. Everybody at primary school was scared of what Dudley and his gang would do to them. Then there was the accidental magic, though I didn’t know what it was. You can understand that I’m sure,” breathing deeply, he pressed on, “I just don’t want to go back to where everyone hates me. I’m worried once I get there I’ll wake up and this will have been some mad dream, that I’ll never get to come back.”

Hermione quietly listened to Harry’s words, wondering what she could possibly say to reassure him. She knew a misstep would close up the tiny peephole he’d allowed for her to see of his emotions, and that was not something she wanted to risk. Hermione readjusted herself so she was leaning more fully on Harry, their hands joined together, while his side supported her weight. It was an unconscious move, but Harry enjoyed being the protector, liked having her lean on him for support the way one might with an older sibling.

“I know you don’t want to go back to your relations, and I don’t blame you, truly. They sound horrid, but the good news is that this isn’t a dream and there are plenty of people that don’t hate you,” Hermione answered finally.

“Draco Malfoy hates me,” Harry joked, looking down at her with his goofy smile. Hermione rolled her eyes at the unoriginal observation and blatant change of subject.

“Draco Malfoy doesn’t count. He looks a bit a like a mongoose, don’t you think?” she said, returning his smile.

“More like a ferret than a mongoose, I’d say,” Harry quipped.

Hermione continued on, trying and failing to hide the smile that widened following Harry’s remark, “Anyhow, you won’t be alone the whole summer. Ron and I will write, and I can ring you on the phone if you think that’d be okay. Maybe you could stay at my house for a bit? Mum and Daddy would love to meet you.”

Hope reignited within Harry at the prospect of escaping the Dursley’s for any period of time. He may have to go back for the summer, but he wouldn’t be alone anymore. Suddenly, Harry was very thankful he had been truthful with Hermione about his life, even if it was only for a few minutes. It had given him a bit more security and confidence to meet the unpleasantness he knew was coming head on.  “That sounds fantastic.”

“Good,” Hermione answered, still smiling, despite the sick feeling of hatred toward the Dursleys that was rooting in her stomach, “because I don’t have many friends at home either and I would love someone to write to. I’m not sure how long you’d survive without me anyhow. You wouldn’t know up from down, I expect.”

Harry laughed softly, “You’re probably right. You did save my skin a couple of times this year.”

  
“A couple of times?” Hermione looked at him, one eyebrow quirked, “I think you should brush up on your maths in your free time this summer, Harry. You seem to have lost the ability to count.”

“Oh, don’t be dramatic,” he answered back, employing an eyeroll of his own. “I saved you a couple of times, as well. It cancels out.”

Hermione smacked Harry’s arm, “Fine, I’ll let you have that, but only because I don’t want to argue. So, are we done hiding? I’d like to enjoy the last week of school if it’s all the same to you. I know Ron’s missed you, too.”

“Done hiding. We’re making the most of the last week. Can you imagine what all we can do with the invisibility cloak?” Harry said, happiness shining in his eyes once more.

Hermione’s head dropped to her knees and her hands covered her face. “I’ve created a monster,” she mumbled. “I can’t control it, and now I have to monitor whatever hare brained scheme he comes up with.”

“You love it,” Harry said to her, ignoring her exasperation, “Deep down, I know you like a little adventure.”

“Adventure- yes. Detention- absolutely not. I would like to be Head Girl some day,” she replied.

“Well,” Harry said enthusiastically, “we just won’t get caught then!”

And with that, Harry sprang from his perch on the window seat, dragging Hermione up with him with an undignified squawk, and bounded for the dormitory door, towing along a bemused Hermione.

“Let’s go find Ron. We can play chess while we figure out what our plans are for the night. I heard Fred and George talking about a hidden door that only opens if you tell it a knock knock joke.”

Although Hermione was certain that she would be sitting in detention in the near future, the look of happiness that had returned to her best friend’s face was more than worth it.

 

 

 

 

 


	8. The Wisdom Teeth Chronicles

“Can you watch her for an hour while I run to the pharmacy and pick up her medicine?” Mrs. Granger asked Harry apprehensively. Hermione was currently propped up on the sofa, gazing around the living room blankly, bloody gauze hanging lopsidedly out of her mouth.  

 

“It won’t be a problem. She hasn’t really done much of anything since she woke up, I doubt she’ll start now,” Harry replied, glancing back over at Hermione’s dazed form.  

 

Mrs. Granger smiled softly, nodded, and walked over to Hermione. She smoothed a few escaped curls away from her daughter’s face and kissed the top of her head. “I’ll be back in a jiffy, dear. Harry’s going to stay with you while I get your prescription and some ice pops. Alright?”  

 

Hermione lifted her face and gave her mother what was sure to be a winning smile, had there not been drool leaking down her chin. “S’alright, mummy,” she mumbled.  

 

Mrs. Granger gave one last look at the teenagers that had settled onto the sofa, grabbed her keys, and walked out the door.  

 

Harry made himself comfortable beside Hermione on the Granger’s couch, and found he was mildly disappointed in the morning’s outcome. Hermione had called several weeks before and said that her parents were insisting that her wisdom teeth be removed the muggle way, and would he come stay with her a few days while she recovered. She worried it would be terribly boring without anyone to keep her company. Harry jumped at the chance to escape Privet Drive for a few days, and was honestly looking forward to Hermione’s reaction to the laughing gas. He remembered fondly the day Dudley got his pig tail removed and came home acting dopier than usual.  

 

To his slight disappointment, Hermione seemed just as reserved on muggle medicine than she did normally. He sighed and adjusted so that Hermione could rest her feet in his lap and tossed a blanket loosely over her form. After a few moments of silence where she stared blankly at a wall, Hermione snapped her head towards Harry, eyes wide with panic. Harry raised his eyebrow at her and waited for what she had to say, hoping it would make good teasing material later.   

 

“I’ll be dumb!” she wailed, her hands flapping uncoordinatedly in the air, the words barely understandable around the wad of gauze.   

 

“What?” Harry answered, amusedly.  

 

Hermione reached up and removed the gauze hastily from her mouth, tossing it directly at Harry who flinched as the spit soaked cotton smacked against his glasses. “Mia, I don’t think you’re supposed to-“  

 

“I’m not smart anymore! I kept all my wisdom in those teeth and they’re gone now! Look!” she cried, opening her mouth the largest amount her chipmunk cheeks would allow, while leaning forward, expecting Harry to examine her bloodied gums. Harry, who had removed his glasses and was trying to wipe the spit smudges from the lenses with the hem of his t-shirt, squinted at her and nodded his head in approval. 

 

Amused, Harry said, “Did you really keep all your wisdom in those teeth? They must have been really big.”  

“They were! That’s why mum and daddy had to take them out. I was too smart and Dumbledore said I couldn’t keep them anymore,” she answered, despair creeping into her tone.  

 

“Dumbledore said you couldn’t keep your teeth anymore?” Harry asked, fighting a laugh that was threatening to erupt.  

She nodded solemnly, her eyes darting around the room as if scanning for eavesdroppers, and she lowered her voice to a loud whisper, leaning in conspiratorially. “They may have taken extras too. I feel way dumber,” she said, drawing out her words for emphasis.  

 

“They probably did,” Harry whispered back, “you were too smart for your own good.”  

Hermione nodded her head seriously. “I know. I remember when I used to be super smart.”  

Harry snickered at her remark. “Are you comfortable? Do you need anything from your room?” he asked, changing the subject lest she become truly upset. Hermione had always taken her intellect seriously. 

 

Hermione considered the question for several moments, dramatically tapping her finger against her chin before moving to stroke her invisible goatee. Harry smiled and thought she looked like an over exaggerated cartoon character, something he was definitely going to remind her of later.  

 

“Yes!” she said, and spun so she could grab Harry’s face with both her hands, claiming his undivided attention. She moved so that they were looking directly into the other’s face, their eyes level. “I need my copy of  _Hogwarts: A History_ , sticky notes, and my pack of glitter gel pens. Got it?”   

 

“Got it, boss,” Harry replied, offering her a tiny salute before grasping her wrists, removing her hands from his face, and moving off the sofa and towards the staircase to Hermione’s bedroom. 

 

 _Hogwarts: A History_ was easy enough to find, sitting expectantly on one of the many bookshelves that lined the walls as if it was frequently called upon for her perusal. He grabbed it quickly and moved toward the desk in search of glitter gel pens, baffled as to why Hermione owned them in the first place. He had never taken her for a glitter gel pen kind of girl, nor had he ever seen her use them. Pulling open the drawers, he riffled through the contents mumbling “gel pens” under his breath. After several minutes of fruitlessly searching, he grabbed the stack of sticky notes and made his way back down the stairs to the living room.  

  
“I can’t find you pens anywhere, Mia,” he said as he took the steps two at a time. He reached the bottom and stared at the empty sofa where he had left Hermione minutes before.  

 

“Mia? Where’d you go?” he called, while poking around the living room to check if she was hidden. A large clatter from the kitchen drew his attention and he sprinted towards the noise. Harry dumped the items unceremoniously on the sofa as he walked by, thankful Hermione didn't see him treat her book with such affections.  

 

“Are you okay?”   

 

Harry rounded the corner into the kitchen and saw a shattered vase and a wicker basket full of napkins scattered across the tile. A quick glance around told him that Hermione wasn’t anywhere in his line of sight; stepping further into the kitchen, a muffled giggle drew his attention upward. Perched on top of the refrigerator was Hermione. Her hair had escaped the French braid her mother had woven for her, wild curls framing her face. A hand covered her mouth while she tried to stifle her amusement at her own prank, looking down at Harry with an heir of mischief worthy of a Marauder nickname.  

Harry carefully maneuvered around the broken pottery in his sock feet to stand facing Hermione. He took in the scene with the precision he often used while hunting for the snitch, desperate not to forget any detail. The second he was of age, he was buying a pensive to show Ron this memory in. He would probably drag Hermione in too, just for kicks.

 

Smiling to himself at the prospects, he asked, “What’s up, Mia?”  

 

“Not much,” she answered, still grinning brightly, eyes twinkling under the kitchen lights. She was sitting with her back to the wall, knees drawn up to her chest, while her bare toes peeked over the front edge of the refrigerator door.  

 

“What are you doing sitting up there?”  

 

“We were out of ice cream,” she answered, looking at Harry as if it were the most obvious conclusion in the world.  

 

“Oh,” Harry smirked, “that makes sense. I usually sit on top of the fridge when I’m out of ice cream. I got the book and sticky notes you wanted from your room. Couldn’t find your pens though.”  

 

“My book!” Hermione squealed, excitement at the prospect of reading evident in her tone. “I really must study!”  

 

She slid forward to the edge of the refrigerator and threw herself off it and into Harry’s surprised arms. He let out a grunt as he caught her underneath the arms and swung her out of the way of the broken shards. Not for the first time in his life, Harry was thankful for Oliver’s relentless quidditch training and the quick reflexes that had resulted.  

 

"Careful," Harry said as he sat her down, slightly surprised with her behavior. Even at her most energetic, Hermione wasn't reckless under normal circumstances.  

 

Hermione grabbed Harry's hand and drug him back to the living room, where she plopped rather ungracefully back onto her seat on the sofa. Patting the cushion impatiently, indicating Harry should hurry up and sit already, she made herself comfortable. He lifted the book from where he had left it earlier and held it out to her to take.  

 

She looked at him incredulously, "I can't read that, Harry. I'm  _recovering."_  

 

Harry bit his lip. "Right. Recovering patients normally jump off the tops of refrigerators," he answered. "I'll read it to you then, shall I?"  

 

"That would be lovely. Where are my sticky notes and pens?"  

 

Harry tossed her the pad of sticky notes which landed top of her clasped hands, having made no move to catch them.   

 

"I couldn't find your gel pens, remember? I just told you a few minutes ago."  

 

Hermione's brow furrow in concentration as she tried to recall the conversation Harry was talking about. "Right," she said, finally deciding that she believed him, even if she didn't remember. " _Accio_  gel pens," Hermione said as she waved her hand.  

 

Harry turned his head, eyes widening as an assortment of gel pens zoomed into the living room, bouncing off Hermione faster than she could catch them and landing haphazardly around her. She let out a surprised yelp and raised her hand to cover her face; when the pens stopped coming, Hermione examined her collection and plucked a sky blue out of the group. Hand poised above a sticky note, she looked up at Harry expectantly.  

 

"Ready!" She said, as if the last minute had never happened and it was totally normal for gel pens to pelt her head.  

 

"Uh..." Harry started, still recovering from the surprising use of underage magic- wandless magic, nonetheless. Several concerning thoughts floating through his head. Would she get in trouble with the Ministry? Would they make an exception for the muggle medicine she was taking? Fingers snapping sloppily in front of his face brought him back from his speculations. He would find out soon enough he supposed.  

 

"Focus, Harry James. I need to study for my N.E.W.T.s."  

 

"Alright. Where should I start?"  

 

Hermione indicated the chapter that she wanted Harry to start with and he began to read aloud, wondering if it would be pointless to tell her that nothing in  _Hogwarts: A History_  would be on her N.E.W.T.s.  

 

 

XXXXX 

 

 

Less than ten minutes later Hermione's head lolled to the side, her notes and pen falling loosely out of her hands.  

 

Harry looked up from his reading and reached across the middle sofa cushion containing both their feet to grab the eight gazillion gel pens she had summoned, rolling his eyes at the ridiculousness of it. Why in the world did she even  _need_  all these pens? Placing them in a disorganized stack on the coffee table, Harry snatched the sticky notes out of the way and adjusted the blanket that Hermione had thrown haphazardly on her lap. He scoffed when he saw the notes she had been taking while he was reading aloud. Stick figure garden gnomes, obviously a cross between the magical and muggle versions, littered the entire stack of notes along with random words such as 'ghosts?' and 'mad staircases' thrown in for good measure.  

 

Just then, Harry heard the door open and the sounds of Mrs. Granger making her way back into the house. Deciding he should offer an explanation for her broken crockery in the kitchen floor, Harry threw one last glance at Hermione as he rolled off the sofa and made his way into the kitchen.   

Mrs. Granger had placed her shopping bags on the kitchen counter and was standing with her back to the stove, surveying the damage on the floor with a curious expression. She looked up when Harry stopped in the doorway.  

 

A smile quirked the corner of her mouth as she looked at him, "Care to explain?"  

 

Responding in kind to her smile, and somewhat relieved she wasn't angry, Harry began. "Well you see, we were out of ice cream..."  

 

"Which is one of the things I went out for in the first place," interrupted Mrs. Granger, a fully-fledged grin emerging.  

 

"Right," Harry nodded, "I found her sitting on top of the refrigerator, and well..." He trailed off, waving a hand vaguely to indicate the mess.  

 

"She jumped off of it, didn't she?"  

Recalling the memory, Harry chuckled and leaned against the door frame, his arms crossed over his chest, "Yeah. She did."  

 

Mrs. Granger sighed, but a fond twinkle was present in her eyes, the smile still playing at her lips. "She's definitely my daughter."  

 

 


End file.
